


Restoration

by dracox_serdriel



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Begging, F/M, Inner Struggle, Kissing, Light Bondage, Love, POV Multiple, Painful hellos, Post-01x06 Ashes Ashes, Reunion, Reunion Sex, Romance, Sensory Deprivation, Sex, Teasing, mattelektra, mattelektraweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-31 04:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12124515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracox_serdriel/pseuds/dracox_serdriel
Summary: Canon divergent as of Defenders 01x06 Ashes, Ashes. Matt returns home to find Elektra in his bed.





	1. Hypnopompia

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers** : Spoilers for all episodes of Daredevil through 02x13 A Cold Day in Hell's Kitchen and Defenders 01x08 The Defenders.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events from Elektra's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written in honor of[Mattelektra Week](https://fadedtoblue.tumblr.com/post/164794850102/mattelektraweek-schedule-details)_
> 
> **Chapter Notes** : The title of this chapter, _hypnogogia_ , is the transitional state of consciousness experienced when falling asleep.

Blaring sirens dragged Elektra out of her beautiful dream. The abrupt transition briefly tempered her awareness, so it took her a moment to recognize a heat and weight on her hand that was not her own. 

She was conditioned to strike without mercy, but ever since she heard _him_ speak her name, she remembered a time when she was more than just the Black Sky. And that woman - the person she was when she loved and was loved by _him_ \- wouldn't attack without provocation, so Elektra stayed her hand.

And her eyes fell upon a sight that catapulted her heart into a frenzy.

There _he_ was, kneeling beside her, _his_ hands around one of hers, and _his_ lips aflutter with the faintest whisper of the prayer they spoke.

Perhaps it was fitting, then, that _his_ name rippled off her tongue with reverence: "Matthew."

"Elektra," he replied as he turned his face to her, his brown eyes wide and brimming.

"It's good to see you again," she said.

The statement was so true that it hurt, and her entire body began reeling with exhilaration and trepidation. She was reminded of a memory painted in excruciating detail.

He had told her that he didn't care what she had done, and then he promised her that, if she chose him over Stick, they'd fight the war together. He had wanted her to stay because he believed there was good in her.

But then he saw who she truly was - a killer - and he told her to leave, that they couldn't work or be together. She relived that wretched moment hesitating at the door, resigned to her fate alone despite being desperate to escape it. Even though he later recanted, he had witnessed her truth, and his love for her hadn't been enough in that moment. What hope did she have of his love enduring now, after all the pain and death wrought by her hands?

"You're here," was his reply. "You came back."

His voice was heavy and halting. She knew he meant more than he spoke, but she couldn't bring herself to fill his silence with words. Her greatest fear was that he would tell her it was too late for them, that she had to leave and never come back.

"You remember," he said. Then he asked, "How much?"

She wanted to tell him that she felt as if she'd awoken from a nightmare, the kind that drags the dreamer from the deepest, darkest imaginings of the human mind, leaving haunting, brutal after-images. She craved to confess that she felt broken - no, _shattered_ \- like fissures cleaving her spirit into a hundred pieces.

She had spent nearly all her life fighting the Hand, and she died saving Matthew from them. She thought she'd take the Black Sky with her to the grave, so with her own death, she took her final victory over the Hand, snatching away their precious weapon at the last second. She had lived sacrificing everything to be a warrior for the Chaste, and she had died saving the best person she'd ever known. And in those last moments, she experienced what it was like to be good. That feeling - that sensation of wholeness that existed before her last breath - made her truly believe that it was all for a reason. She genuinely thought that what she'd done was enough.

It hadn't been, though. Dying hadn't been enough. For months, she had existed as the Hand's perfect weapon: a blank slate wielding blades with neither curiosity nor conscience. In that short time, she had undone all of her life's work, killing people she'd fought beside for years... and she had felt nothing, deriving neither pleasure nor pain from battle. Instead, she experienced surges of energy that made her an unstoppable force. She was a weapon - an _object_ \- and never thought about her inexplicable abilities or endless capacity for pain. 

But now? Now she felt everything: the pain, the rage, the fear, the abject defeat. It was as if the only thing holding her together were Matthew's hands, and she needed to tell him.

But when she tried to reply, she only managed four words before her voice caught in her throat.

"Everything," she said. "I remember everything."

He squeezed her hand before pressing a kiss into it, his normally soft lips dry and cracked. It drummed up a storm buried deep; Elektra ached for him: his companionship, his love, his touch.

She reached out to him with her free hand as she shifted toward him, bringing their foreheads together as she took a long, deep, calming breath. 

_But I would trade it all in for a lifetime of smelling your skin._

She had told him that in another life over a decade ago, but it was just as true now as it had been then.

He closed the remaining gap between them, cupping her cheek as he brought his lips to hers, soft and gentle, like the first raindrops breaking the sweltering heat on a summer night. They parted for a fleeting moment as he pulled back to catch his breath, and she followed, not willing to let the kiss end.

And it didn't. Matthew met her passion in equal measure as he rose from his knees to join her on the bed. She gasped when his fingers stroked down her neck and lightly traced her collarbone. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue over her teeth.

She dragged him closer, gaining the upper hand for a moment as he nimbly adjusted, bracing himself above her. His body radiated a magnificent heat that she drank in through her skin. Needing more, she grabbed at his suit, finding a delightful purchase against its rough texture.

Their bodies moved in tandem as they both grappled to get closer, led by lips and tongue and teeth. She lost herself in the bliss and fire that was Matthew Murdock - her Matthew.

That was how they ended up side by side on his bed, arms and legs tangled together and clothing in disarray. This time, when their lips broke apart, his eyes fluttered shut, and he breathed her in. She traced the hard lines of his flesh, enticed when she felt his pulse hammering so close under his skin. 

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered.

"Never."

His beautiful brown eyes opened as he said, "But I did. Elektra, you died, and I - I am so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," she replied.

"If I had listened to you, we wouldn't have been on that rooftop, and - "

"If not that rooftop, it would've been another," she interrupted. "It wasn't your fault, Matthew. In the end, you were the only one fighting for me. The only one who cared about me. Not the Black Sky, not the soldier... me."

"I'll always fight for you," he said. "I love you."

Every muscle in her body tensed as his pronouncement. She knew he had loved her; he'd said as much before. But this time, she couldn't believe it. 

She must still be dreaming.

"Elektra?" he prompted, his hand on her cheek.

"You haven't said that," she replied in a rush. "Not in ten years. Not... not in the present tense."

"I should've told you," he said. "I regretted not saying it every second after - "

She put a finger to his lips to quiet him. He of all people had nothing to apologize for, not to her. 

"Me too," she said. "I should've said it every day."

Then they both came together. Her lips were on his, and all thoughts and worries vanished.


	2. Hypnogogia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events from Matthew's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written in honor of[Mattelektra Week](https://fadedtoblue.tumblr.com/post/164794850102/mattelektraweek-schedule-details)_
> 
> **Chapter Notes** : The title of this chapter, _hypnogogia_ , is the transitional state of consciousness experienced when falling asleep.

**About thirty minutes ago in Hell's Kitchen...** Matt kept in step with Jessica Jones, who apparently not only possessed super-strength but also the gait to rival a gazelle. 

"Shit," she said as she stopped abruptly at the edge of the alleyway.

Her exclamation came less than a heartbeat before her arm shot out to obstruct is path, so he didn't have a chance to avoid the collision. It wasn't enough to knock the wind out of him, but it came close. Her arm felt more like a bar of steel than human flesh.

"That one-handed guy said we only had an hour," she replied. "Barely enough time to get to my client, let alone dig through whatever the hell you've got on these assholes."

"Luke will buy us time," he pointed out. "If he doesn't, believe me, Stick will."

"I'm not leaving him with that fist thing and only that old guy with the stupid name as backup. We gotta do the divide and conquer thing," she said. Then, before he could reply, she added, "And you have to change out of that stupid costume."

"It's body armor," he countered.

"Whatever," she said. "Bring everything you have back to the warehouse."

"And the architect?" he asked.

"I've got that covered."

She turned the corner and started down the street, and he withdrew into the alley. He could tell from the tension and tone of her voice that there was no use arguing; besides, she had a point about his suit. There was a reason he didn't wear it in broad daylight.

So he decided to clear his head by taking the long route home. He retraced his steps to the other end of the alley and climbed a fire escape. He favored stealth over speed until he reached the roof, where he broke into a full gallop. There were surprisingly few prying eyes to avoid, so he quickly traversed the rooftops, descending to ground level solely as a precaution when entering his own building.

That, and the stairs would do him some good. His mind was reeling and swirling with plans to save Elektra, each one more ludicrous than the last. But stopping was too much like giving up, and he wouldn't give up on her. He couldn't.

He was so distracted that he was on the third floor before he heard it: loud, strong, and terribly familiar: Elektra's heartbeat. He knew it intimately, but during their last two encounters, he didn't hear it at all. She had hidden herself like all the Hand's ninjas, but there was no mistaking it now.

He doubled his pace, taking the stairs as fast as physically possible, only slowing when he reached his door and only to ensure a noiseless entrance into his apartment.

He did his best to ignore the nagging doubts in the back of his head - the one that sounded remarkably like Foggy - warning him that this could be a trap. So he proceeded with caution, even though every part of him was screaming to rush to her.

Nothing had been disturbed in the main loft, so he continued to his bedroom. Matt spotted her weapons first. They were discarded beyond the nightstand, completely out of reach from the bed, where Elektra was curled up, asleep. 

Her breaths came in long easy waves that made a perfect tempo with the samba spun from their two heartbeats. Everything around him felt serene and fragile. He found himself holding his breath as he stepped quietly into the room. 

She was _here_ , in his apartment. The only way she known where he lived was by memory. She must've remembered and come looking for him.

He desperately wanted to speak with her, but nothing on earth could make him disturb her. Not yet.

So he knelt beside her, and, unable to help himself, he took her hand in his own, cupping it like a priceless treasure. Then he said a prayer of gratitude and another for strength.

And he waited. 

It could've been minutes or hours; it was impossible to tell when he tuned out the world beyond his apartment. All of his senses honed in on her, and everything about her engulfed him, consuming every ounce of his awareness.

And then she spoke, "Matthew."

His head snapped up as he said, "Elektra."

"It's good to see you again," she said.

Suddenly his head was empty, and he couldn't think of a single word worth speaking. Nevertheless, his lips moved as if on their own accord, imparting the only thought lingering in his mind.

"You're here," he replied. "You came back."

He wanted to tell her everything. But where to start? Should he tell that he would do anything to help her? How he felt (feels... has _always_ felt) about her? Should he apologize for failing her so badly in her past life? Or should he confess his gratitude? Because no matter how horrible the means, he was thankful that she was alive and here with him.

None of that seemed right, so instead he said, "You remember. How much?"

Elektra didn't respond immediately, and when she spoke, he heard a furious and wild current of emotion in every syllable before it swept up her voice and forced her to stop.

"Everything," she said. "I remember everything."

She reached out to him, and he reached back. Then the gap between them vanished, and his lips were on hers, sweet and sure. It was wonderful, and he never wanted it to end.

But, after everything she had been through, she deserved someone who would always let her choose who she was. He owed her that much. So he pulled back to give her the space to turn away if that was what she wanted. 

Clearly it wasn't, because she only allowed the shortest of moments before following him and continuing the kiss. But this time it was hard and needy, driven by hot-blooded passion and pure want, resulting in a powerful seduction that eclipsed any thought of _too much_ or _too soon_ in Matt's mind.

He needed to touch her, to feel her skin under his. Unwilling to break the kiss, he gracelessly climbed onto the bed. His free hand went to her cheek, then followed the familiar path down her neck to her collarbone. She gasped at the faintest of contact there, just like she had countless times before, and he darted his tongue in between her parted lips, eager to taste every corner of her mouth.

He quickly lost his leverage as she jockeyed for control, but he didn't care. Losing himself in her embrace was the tonic for every ill borne from her loss, the sole remedy for the nightmare of reliving her last breath in his arms. His hands retraced her supple and sinewy curves as he drank her in all over again for the first time.

His pounding heart skipped a beat. _The first time._ Not the last and not the only. Not if he could help it.

Matt needed to talk to Elektra, which meant he had to break away, and that took more will than he seemed able to muster. By the time their lips parted, they were both panting for breath, limbs entwined and hearts drumming hard.

It was now or never.

"I thought I'd lost you," he said quietly.

"Never."

"But I did," he continued. "Elektra, you died, and I - I am so sorry."

Her grip reflexively tightened, her fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder and hip as if she feared he might get up and leave.

"It wasn't your fault."

"If I had listened to you, we wouldn't have been on that rooftop, and - "

"If not that rooftop, it would've been another," she cut him off. "It wasn't your fault, Matthew. In the end, you were the only one fighting for me. The only one who cared about me. Not the Black Sky, not the soldier... me."

"I'll always fight for you. I love you."

He knew that she knew how he felt, yet as soon as he said it out loud, he worried that she would shove him away in disgust.

Her muscles clenched, and her heart rate spiked dramatically. She was so lost in her thoughts that he couldn't read her reaction. Clearly he had upset her, but she hadn't pushed him away. Not yet.

His hand found her cheek as he tried to reconnect with her. "Elektra?"

"You haven't said that. Not in ten years. Not... not in the present tense."

A rush of relief caught in his chest.

"I should've told you. I regretted not saying it every second after - "

A finger pressed against his lips, trapping what he planned to say on his tongue.

"Me too. I should've said it every day."

Part of him said that they should wait. There would be plenty of time for sex and sparring and whatever else they wanted to do together after they dealt with the Hand. Being with her like this wasn't right. Not now.

But wasn't that the same thing he'd told himself before? He had believed that they could be together after they captured Nobu, that they could run away together after they survived the Hand's trap. He had pushed her away again and again for one foolish reason after another, always acting as if he had a tomorrow to promise and the endless luck required to keep it.

Yesterday was already gone, and Matt was finally ready to admit to himself that the only thing he had to offer was today, the here and now. In his world, the battle was never truly over, and he was done lying to himself about that, too.

No longer wounded by yesterday or bound to the tomorrow that may never come, he plunged headlong into the present with Elektra's lips on his.


	3. Hypnophobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew and Elektra live in the present (aka the PWP chapter).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Written in honor of[Mattelektra Week](https://fadedtoblue.tumblr.com/post/164794850102/mattelektraweek-schedule-details)_
> 
> **Chapter Notes** : The title of this chapter, _hypnophobia_ , is the clinical term for the persistent fear of falling asleep (also called somniphobia and clinophbia).

Elektra's fingers raked down Matthew's suit in a fervor of passion. Though she adored the way it hugged his form and displayed his many wonderful assets, its tight fit and many hidden zippers made it difficult to remove. She wanted to feel every inch of his skin against hers, and if Stick, the Hand, and death itself couldn't stop her, then she certainly wasn't going to let a little body armor get in her way. 

The reassuring sensation of him against her kept her frustration in check: the pricking of his stubble against her cheek, his weight spread across her, the salty tang of the sweat gathering along his neck. She closed her eyes and basked in it, diverting one hand to his chin and another to his exemplary ass, exploring the hard sinew of his muscles as much as the contours of the suit. When their lips broke apart for breath, her eyes snapped open.

He was breathing hard, and his skin was flushed. His entire body fluctuated with inhale and exhale alike, and his expression... from the crease in his brow to the hard line of his clenched jaw, there was nothing but pure, unfettered want. She would call it lust were it not for the slight downturn of his swollen lips and the crinkling flutter of his eyelids. She'd seen that expression when they'd made love years and years ago, right before the first time he'd told her he loved her. She couldn't forget that look if she tried, and seeing it again gave her an unfamiliar sensation in her chest that was so strong it compelled her to look away.

Matt navigated the terrain of her unfamiliar garments with ease, bypassing the complex adornments for the fasteners they concealed. He savored the cool metal of each one under his fingertips along with the satisfying _pop_ that sounded as they came undone. As soon as he opened the last one, he tugged off her top, discarding the coarse material and uncovering her camisole. 

Under other circumstances, he would've spent time cataloging the differences between her supple skin and the silky fabric, teasing her all the while, but he could feel her impatience as she grabbed at his suit as she unhooked his belt and dragged it from his belt loop.

The Daredevil suit protected his identity from discovery and his body from injury, and for obvious reasons, it wasn't designed for speedy removal. So he shifted his weight to his legs to free both hands, reached behind himself, and yanked the top half over his head. 

The cool air chilled his sweaty skin for a moment before Elektra's body rose up to meet him, her chest as bare as his, having already discarded her camisole. Her lips found his neck, starting with the lightest of pressure before sucking in a small area of flesh and gently kneading it with her teeth. He gasped as the pleasure gave way to pain, escalating to a moan when her warm tongue passed over the sensitive flesh.

He was already straining against his trousers, and her ministrations paired with the feeling of her breasts against his chest almost sent him over the edge too soon. He took a moment to settle himself; he couldn't keep himself on edge like this, not if he wanted this to last. So he refocused his energy, tuning every heightened sensed on her and her alone.

He wanted to taste her, to feel her, to smell her, but more than anything else, he wanted to hear her call his name as she came undone.

Elektra was intoxicated by his moan. She pushed against him, eager to wrap herself in the heat of his body, shifting into a seated position for better purchase. Suddenly, she was swept up in a devouring kiss as his hands cupped her ass, lifting her, and she grabbed onto him for support as he slowly pressed her back into the mattress. He pinned her under his weight, one hand by her shoulder and the opposite knee outside her thigh.

She smiled into the kiss, preparing to flip them and take control, but then his free knee came up between her legs, grinding against her swollen clit, sending rippling pleasure to every part of her. Her back arched, throwing her head back and breaking the kiss just in time for a high keen to explode from her lips.

He pressed his advantage before she could regain her footing. He peppered her neck with kisses, nibbling on her collarbone before his mouth found her hardened nipples. She lost herself when she watched him suck one into his mouth, the hot and wet shooting straight through her, and his devilish expression didn't help matters.

It felt like her entire body was on fire as she down against his leg, seeking the friction that would send her over the edge. She pawed at him, reaching for his groin, but he kept batting her hand away until his fingers wrapped around her wrist and brought it above her head. When his hand playfully slid down the length of her body, she gripped the pillow behind her. 

Her every nerve burned with anticipation, and she was so close to the edge that she could barely think straight. When his thumb circled her hipbone, she bucked helplessly against him, but he shifted away from her at the last second.

Elektra collapsed back on the bed to catch her breath before paying him back, but before she could even think about what to do next, his hand darted into her pants. His fingers went straight to her wet seam, and two plunged inside of her without the slightest resistance. She clenched around him, and he groaned.

"God, Matthew..."

Then he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside that always made her see fireworks. It only took two more times before her orgasm slammed into her, her mind going blissfully blank as her back bowed off the bed. 

He echoed her cries, her name spilling from his lips as his own climax matched hers, collapsing over her on the bed.

He was covering her skin with gentle kisses as she came back to her senses. Her entire body throbbed with her pulsating blood, but the thought of him coming from just his fingers inside of her reignited her passion. She wanted him - no, need him - again. And this time, she wanted him bare and begging.

She dragged him into a long, deep kiss, and when she felt his body relax, she flipped them, straddling his stomach. From the look on his face, he was still in a post-climax haze, licking his lips and utterly boneless with pleasure. 

"Do you trust me, Matthew?" she asked.

"Always," he replied.

She looked around but there wasn't anything obvious she could use. So she took the case off the body-length pillow behind his head and wound it up to make a length of rope. 

Matthew's lips curled into a pointed smile, as if he knew what she was planning, which likely meant tying him up would be an upward battle. But she was more than up to the challenge.

Before she could pounce, however, he lifted both arms so his wrists were crisscrossed above his head, the smile on his face deepening. 

Of course, she shouldn't have suspected _complete_ surrender on his part. When she leaned over to bind his hands, he took advantaged of her bared breasts. His tongue circled her nipple before he gently nipped, and a gasp escaped her before she focused her efforts on tying him down. It was... _difficult_ , what with his tongue and teeth lavishing her breasts with attention, but she took her time and made sure that the knot tight and secure.

"So naughty, Matthew," she said once she was done. 

She reluctantly shifted away, and his lips released her nipple with a wet _pop_. She snaked a hand behind herself, stroking him through the rough material. His hips snapped up to meet her, but her weight kept his core in check.

How beautiful he looked when he began to worry his lower lip with his teeth... she leaned forward to watch, pulling back when he tried to reach up and kiss her.

"How should I punish you?" she whispered.

He tested the makeshift bindings, finding them more than adequate. He had only gotten the tiniest taste of touching her, and it wasn't nearly enough to slake his fill. But he had lost control when she clamped around his fingers... just the thought of her doing the same to his cock made him come without warning. 

Maybe he needed her to be in control. He couldn't deny wanting it.

"Hmmm? How should I punish you?" she asked again.

"Top... top drawer, bedside table."

She opened the drawer and laughed when she saw what he kept there.

"Are you sure you want me to use these?" she asked, twirling them around her finger.

"You said you wanted to punish me," he replied. 

She leaned over and kissed him, and he shoved his tongue in her mouth. It was inelegant and sloppy, but it was only meant to show her she wasn't yet in complete control, the perfect taunt. She retaliated by not-so-gently nibbling his tongue.

As she withdrew, she secured his noise-canceling headphones over his ears, and the world fell silent. 

He couldn't help but feel a little panicked. If he truly wanted to, he could escape the bindings, but he could no longer sense where anything was in the room. He could taste the sweet salty sweat on the air and feel her hot, wet core against his stomach, but beyond that, there was nothing but darkness and long, endless quiet.

Then he felt her fingers at his neck as she kissed him again, and this time she had total control, making it long and sweet before deepening it with her tongue. His joined hers, lightly sparing in his mouth before she began to make her way down his neck, nibbling and licking.

Her lips and tongue traversing every inch of his chest before she tweaked his nipples with her fingers. Her weight lifted away, and the delicious scent of her arousal filled the air, overwhelming everything else. Then he felt her damp core against his stomach, her skin now marvelously bare against his.

Elektra was the only thing in the universe to him, her body quivering against his skin and her mouth, well, everywhere. His blood began to sear again as his balls tightened, his erection rebounding as her fingers and lips roamed lower and lower. Her weight lifted again, and he writhed in her absence until her hands came down to hold his hips in check.

He groaned when her teeth scraped down his hipbones, the mixture of pain, pleasure, and anticipation had him straining against his pants. He felt her hair drape over his stomach as her fingers drummed against him, too much and not enough. 

Matt felt his zipper go as her breath warmed his abdomen. He had to stop himself from ripping through the bindings to get to her; he wanted to tear off his pants and plunge inside of her. What had he been thinking, letting her tie him up?

As if she could hear his thoughts, she grabbed his trousers and underwear and peeled them off in one smooth motion, and he gasped as cold air hit his erection. 

Elektra pressed a kiss into his ankle, her hands sliding up his leg. The pattern was always the same: first her fingers, then her breath, then her lips. She went at an agonizing pace, and by the time she reached his thigh, Matt felt like he was going insane.

"Elektra," he whined, though he could only hear his voice in his own head.

She rewarded his plea by wrapping her hand around the base of his cock. She unhurriedly slid her vice-like grip up and down, drawing a strangled moan from his chest. Her slow and steady pace had him bucking up for more, all the while keeping him on the edge.

He should've known she'd want him to beg, and he had never been more ready in his life. 

"Elektra, _please_ ," he pleaded. "Please, Elektra."

He felt her legs on either side of his, and her sweet and tangy scent redoubled. He felt weight against his chest before the tip of his cock dip into her silky wet folds. He surged to meet her, feeling her tautness enclose him for a moment before she pulled up and away.

There was teasing, and then there was _teasing_... she had always adored this particular game. How long could she keep him on the edge? How long before he lost control?

He tore through the bindings and ripped the headphones off his ears, and the world erupted around him again. He had no interest in the sirens or the voices in the distance; his only focus was the woman hovering above him, making a _tsk, tsk_ sound at his defiance. 

Matt sat up and brought her into a crushing embrace, his lips seeking hers for a frantic - and slightly sloppy - kiss. She wrapped her arms around him, her nails biting into his back. The kiss was a battle for dominance, fought by tongue and teeth, and he had the upper hand at the beginning. 

But then she lowered herself down his length until her hips touched his, and the raw pleasure of her tight, slick envelopment had a dizzying effect on him. His back curled and his head fell back.

"God, Elektra - "

She wasted no time retaking control, shoving him back down onto his back by his shoulders. She seemed to think he was resisting her, but nothing was farther from the truth. Perhaps she only needed a reminder of his... submission. 

He took hold of her hands, following them to her shoulders. From there, one traced her side down to her hip, while the other stopped at her breast, kneading the delicate tissue and earning him a groan of pleasure from her pursed lips.

"Matthew."

Elektra swirled her hips, and the friction had him bucking into her. Her scent was everywhere, all over him, and their bodies easily found a tempo between his push and her pull. It was all he could do to prevent from tearing up. She was here - alive - and with him, something he had never thought was possible.

A chorus of their names filled the room, as did the sloppy wet sounds of their flesh coming together again and again.

Matthew had the incredible ability to hit a place deep inside her that had her trembling with pleasure. Elektra felt weak - no, tired - and she wanted to feel his muscle, his heat, against all of her.

So she changed the angle, dragging him up into a seated position by the shoulders, and he was wonderfully pliable, his arms coming up behind her lower back and ass, crushing them together as he thrust deep into her.

He swallowed her moan with a kiss, pulling back and thrusting again, this time grinding against her, sending waves of ecstasy from her core. She clamped down as he withdrew, and it was his turn to moan helplessly into the kiss. It only took a few more thrusts to drive her over the edge of her second climax, her entire body tensing as her eyes rolled back into her head and her toes curled in delight. 

Matthew's head dropped to her shoulder as he followed her, his powerful body surging up once, twice, three times as he came hard. His masterful movement extended her orgasm, making it difficult to balance above him. She collapsed into his chest, her well-used muscles trembling with fatigue and throbbing with gratification.

He rolled them, withdrawing from her while propped on his elbows, his forehead rested against hers. 

"Matthew," she said softly, pressing a simple kiss to his lips. "I've missed you."

He collapsed at her side, drawing the sheets over their quivering bodies as he pulled her into a spooning position. 

"Me too," he whispered in her ear. "I'm never losing you again."

He nuzzled into her neck as his arms came around her. She entwined her hand with his, and for the first time that either of them could remember, both Elektra and Matt felt contented and safe, completely at peace with the world.

Neither was foolish enough to think they could stay like this forever, but for a moment, they indulged the dream of happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't able to finish this until very late Sunday night (aka Monday morning), but this last chapter was also part of Mattelektra Week (albeit a few hours later). I hope you enjoyed this Mattelektra fic!

**Author's Note:**

> _Written in honor of[Mattelektra Week](https://fadedtoblue.tumblr.com/post/164794850102/mattelektraweek-schedule-details)_


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